Skyfall
by MinervaDeannaBond
Summary: To Lady Violet Crawley, it feels as though the sky is falling down at Sybil's funeral... but it takes a friend she never knew she had to help her realize that they will stand tall and face it all together, no matter what may come.


For Lady Violet Crawley, it feels like the end at Sybil's funeral, but Isobel helps her to realize one important thing that will help her go on: the two of them really are more alike than they realize, and they have weathered quite a bit together and always will, even if the sky falls down. Listen to Adele's song as you read, if you like.

* * *

This is the end.

It's the end of happiness at Downton as we know it. It's the end of a night gone horribly, dreadfully wrong.

It's the end of our darling Sybil's life.

Before the funeral procession begins, Carson and I share a brief moment together. He and I have witnessed some terrible things, but nothing worse than this. Nothing can be worse, he tells me before I turn to make my way through the entrance hall. I keep telling myself to be strong, but the tears are coming too fast for me to stop them. For the fleetest of seconds, I freeze where I am. It is almost as if every breath I take is a knife through my heart, so powerful is the grief that I am struggling to keep locked within; the grief that threatens to break free and overwhelm me. All I can do is take a deep breath, hold it, and slowly count to ten, praying that it will be enough to clear my head and my eyes… but it still doesn't stop me from letting a few tears course down my cheeks and a sob from racking its way through my body. In that tremor, the ground seems to move beneath my feet and I worry that I will faint. But I don't, and my heart is still beating… despite the fact that it feels like it is going to burst with the pain of losing my youngest granddaughter.

It was my misfortune to have already returned home when the unthinkable happened. I was fast asleep with the assurance that despite earlier complications, Sybil and the baby were fine, but my dreams told me otherwise. I dreamed of Sybil thrashing about in bed, her skin fading to a ghoulish gray and the light dying from her beautiful eyes… of two people holding her hands, crying and begging her to hold on – Tom, her husband, and Cora, her mother, the woman who held her when she first came into the world and the one who held her when she departed the world forever. A death knell resonated in my ears, but I realized that it was the call bell echoing from downstairs upon waking. When Benton, my lady's maid, told me that Matthew was downstairs asking for me, I told her to send him upstairs and reached for my dressing gown. Middle of the night or not, I was not about to let any man see me _en dishabille, _even if it was a member of my own family. But when Matthew entered and told me the terrible news, I was struck by how selfish my previous thought had been. To think I had been worried about impropriety in front of a man when everyone else was weeping over the death of Sybil… it broke my heart along with the death itself. After Matthew took his leave, I pulled my blankets tighter around myself and let the tears flow until I was all but drowning. Now, here I am on my way to the funeral, prepared to stand beside Robert, Cora, and the girls as we say goodbye to Sybil. Not only is it my duty, but it's the least I can do do pay the dues for my absence. I'm a woman of many words, but words cannot express how much I regret not being beside my family at the moment Sybil was taken from us. Although my body will be there, my soul is elsewhere… searching for Sybil; blown away on the chilling wind of death.

Another sob quakes through me, and I fear that Carson has seen my shoulders tremble with the force of it. But even if he has, I know he won't breathe a word to anyone. Carson is as loyal as the day is long, and he has seen me at my worst many times, when nobody else has. He and I, as well as the rest of the servants and my family, have weathered war, wounds, and the Spanish flu together, when it felt like the sky was going to fall upon Downton and crush us all. But all of us, Crawleys and servants alike, stood tall and survived. Now, the sky is falling again, rain pouring down as if God is weeping for us… and I wouldn't blame him if he is. As more tears threaten to spill forth, I steel myself and catch my breath. Now is not the time to break down, no matter how much I want to. _I am the Dowager Countess of Grantham, _I remind myself. I have to remain strong for my family. Once again, we will see this through, though the tears and pain may come. If only I can tell my heart what my head is saying.

Sometimes it seems that life begins at Downton. I began my life here as a new bride, full of hope for myself and my husband. I bore Robert and Rosamund here, just as Cora bore Mary, Edith, and Sybil… and Sybil bore her babe, a new life starting in the midst of all this pain and sorrow. As we stand together at the cemetery now, watching Travis lay our beloved girl to rest, it is as if we are all a hundred, a thousand, a million miles apart; together, but separate. Worlds have collided, here and now – aristocrats and servants, Catholics and Protestants, the old world of tradition and the new world of change. All of them shrouded in darkness, which has hung over Downton far too long. It will be a dark day indeed when the newspapers write about Sybil's death and funeral; no doubt they will be pestering Robert and Cora to speak out. If they knock on my door, I will give them my name and politely tell them to bog off. I reveal my heart to very few, and _never _to some meddling, poking journalist. What they _will _know and what they _can _quote me on is how we will always remain together, strong in the face of disaster. "We stand tall though the sky may fall." It certainly has a nice ring to it.

"Cousin Violet?"

I turn suddenly to see Isobel standing before me, her mourning veil swept back over her hat. It is certainly no secret that she and I have never gotten along, but today is no time for a verbal joust. She certainly does not look as though she is in the mood to do battle with me – as a matter of fact, there is nothing but sympathy on her face and compassion in her eyes. Isobel _is _a woman of constant compassion, something I wish with all my heart that I could be and can't. I certainly have my reasons for matching wits with her, but nobody knows that the main reason is to mask my envy for Isobel's capacity to love and care. Oddly enough, today that envy seems to have vanished. All I can feel is sorrow. "Mrs. Crawley?" I reply, tamping down the part of me that wants so desperately to call her by her Christian name.

If Isobel is affronted by this, she doesn't show it. Rather, she takes my hands in hers and squeezes gently, offering me a smile through her tears – the same smile that has healed many a wounded spirit, both in Dr. Clarkson's hospital and in the hallowed halls of Downton Abbey itself. "I won't waste time telling you that everything is going to be all right, because I know it won't. When you lose someone near and dear, nothing is ever quite all right again."

It's on the tip of my tongue to snap at Isobel, to ask when the last time she lost a loved one was, but then it occurs to me that she has seen more death than the rest of us put together. Not only did she witness the death of her husband Reginald long ago, she has held the hands of Dr. Clarkson's patients when they depart this life for the next; sang to soldiers and comforted their families during the Great War. She came dangerously close to losing Matthew, and even though he is alive and well again, I can tell that the fear of losing him is still with her, and probably always will be. Normally, I hate admitting when Isobel is right, but there is no shame in it today. "No," I say heavily, allowing myself to meet her eyes. "No, it won't ever be."

Her next statement surprises me. "We're more alike than you realize, you know."

"What?" Alike? She and I? Is that even possible? "How?"

"We've known each other for eight years, nearly a decade. You and I are both strong-willed women with great opinions and equally strong views, and that may be why we butt heads so often. But we've both gone to the same places and seen the same things, and we've both weathered disease and disaster together. We've been thorns in each other's sides, but at the same time, we've also been shoulders to cry on and sources of comfort for each other and those around us. We're no longer strangers, and certainly more than just cousins."

"And what are we?"

She smiles again. "Isn't it obvious? Cousin Violet, we're _friends._ 'A friend loveth at all times, and a brother' – or in this case, a sister – 'is born for adversity.' Face it, you wouldn't be yourself if you didn't have me to insult on a daily basis."

Despite the gravity of our situation, it takes every ounce of willpower I have not to laugh. "Well, everybody needs a sense of normalcy. Mine is insulting and matching wits with you. It's the one bit of security I need most in times like these."

No sooner have these words escaped my lips than I see something glittering in Isobel's eyes. "I think it's time I gave you another sense of security." The next thing I know, she has stepped forward and wrapped her arms around my shoulders, holding me in an embrace. For a moment, I am too shocked to say anything – Isobel has never so much as kissed me on the cheek in greeting, as Cora often does. But I have to admit, it does feel quite nice. The embrace is not weak or insincere; it is strong and warm, the kind of hug that makes you feel safe and protected from harm. The embrace of a… a _friend. _Tentatively, I place my arms around Isobel's waist and return her embrace. At the moment, I don't care who is watching. If tongues are wagging by this time tomorrow about how the Dowager Countess of Grantham and Mrs. Reginald Crawley are now the best of friends, let them say what they will. We'll bicker and argue to keep up appearances, but we'll both know the awful, beautiful truth.

After a minute or two, Isobel finally breaks the embrace and moves back a step, regarding me in a new light, or so it seems. "Well now, that wasn't so horrible, was it?"

A small smile plays about my mouth. "I'm still alive, if that's what you mean. Let's not make a habit of that, shall we?"

Isobel shakes her head, but I can still see the mischief in her eyes. "Of course not, Lady Grantham," she replies with a hint of sarcasm. At this remark, I want nothing more than to poke her with my cane, but the last thing I need is for Robert to notice… and here he comes, motioning for us to join them. It's time to return to Downton Abbey. Isobel turns to me and offers me her arm. "Shall we, Cousin Violet?"

I stare at the crook of her arm for a heartbeat. It's more than just company on the walk back to the car; she's offering me support, both physical and emotional. The sky may be falling on us both, but she's telling me that we will stand tall and face it all together, whatever may come – as mothers, as cousins, as friends. Finally, I slip my arm around hers and meet her gaze once again. "We shall… Cousin Isobel."


End file.
